The Wolf at Work
by Gumi Reloaded
Summary: Sequel to the Gumi Reloaded fics, New Meiji Metropolitan PD Press Conference and The Day After. Saitoh moves offices, investigates the Sunshine Cafe crime and discovers something surprising. Saitoh/Tokio


**The Wolf at Work**

Chapter 1 Moving Day

_(This story occurs right after the events in __日本放送協会 __NHK NEWS: New Meiji Metropolitan Police Department Press Conference) Saitoh and Karen have finished lunch and gone their separate ways…_

Current Location: Department of Justice, Lower New Meiji, Kenshin's Old Safe House, Katsu's House 

Saitoh turned the corner towards his office and stopped, eyes narrowing with unconcealed annoyance at the rather chaotic scene that was presenting itself. The door to his office was off its hinges and a NMDOJ facility employee had scraped off the non-descript number three that he'd insisted on using as an identifier and was painting Karen's name in its stead.

Saitoh's phone buzzed. He opened it and saw a text message from the new Captain of the third squadron.

SECURE AND ENCRYPTED TXT MSG:  
To: S. Hajime  
From: K. Watanabe  
Subject: WHERE IN THE HELL ARE MY FILES?  
START  
_Either all my files have all been stolen or the morons are moving our offices. Sorry._  
**P.S..** _You never told me if you kissed her or not. You owe me some dirt, Brat, and the next lunch._

END

There was a stack of boxes teetering in the hallway, filled with what appeared to be case files. Saitoh swore and stormed over to an exposed file folder and opened it. The file wasn't his, but Watanabe's, and was highly classified.

"You," he motioned towards one of the movers, crooking his finger in a decidedly menacing manner. "Why don't you tell me why you're moving classified documents in a decidedly non-secure manner?"

The hapless worker swallowed and began stuttering some stupid nonsense about how Uramura had insisted that employee office transfers be completed by EOD and that the normal process had been delayed due to Saitoh's secretary being less than cooperative with the whole moving process.

"You see, Captain…er…Major….we'd have already finished but Secretary Yorimoto refused us access to your office. He's really quite insistent…"

The insistent secretary in question could be seen, standing defiantly in Saitoh's office doorway, brandishing a lovely potted plant that Saitoh's team had given him as a prank (apparently everyone thought that Saitoh owning a Japanese Peace Lilly was hysterically ironic) and arguing with yet another facilities employee who kept trying to enter Saitoh's office area.

"Yorimoto-san, we have orders to move Major Saitoh's belongings to his new office on 25th floor! The work order was approved by Sr. Superintendent Uramura. You're causing seriously delays to this transfer process and are going to be written up for insubordination if you don't stop trying to hit me with that damn flower!"

Clearly, the facilities employee was exasperated and tried to push past the stick-thin secretary into Saitoh's personal office.

"Do what you will with me!" Yorimoto pushed right back, huffing and sputtering as he hefted up the Peace Lilly as if it was a verdant melee weapon and tried to bonk the facilities employee on the head with the pot. "Superintendent Saitoh-sama told me that under no circumstances was anyone to lay a finger….NOT A FINGER….on his files, to say nothing of his personal belongings. I am carrying out that express order and would rather be torn from limb to limb by rabid tanuki's than disobey his wishes!"

Saitoh reached out and caught the ceramic pot before it came into contact with the facility employee's thick skull.

"That's enough," he growled, directing the warning to both his overly emotional secretary and the irate MDJOC worker.

"Superintendent Saitoh-sama!" Yorimoto exclaimed, his nostrils quivering violently. "This miscreant is trying to enter your officer without permission and abscond with your files and personal items. Per your explicit instructions, and at great risk to my life, limbs and heretofore spotless employment record, I have kept the fell man at bay and kept your inner-sanctum undefiled!"

Praying for patience, Saitoh pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and held his rather abused Peace Lilly with the other. "Out. Both of you. This instant."

"But I…." the mover began.

"But he…" Yorimoto protested.

"What part of OUT are you failing to comprehend?" Saitoh's growl dropped an octave. The man painting Karen's name on the office entrance blanched and accidentally dropped his paintbrush, creating a rather chaotic looking squiggle down the front of the door. Saitoh looked at Yorimoto and swore that if the man started to weep again, he'd knock him into next week. "Quit being a twit."

Yorimoto's chin began to wobble. "Yes, Superintendent Saitoh-sama."

He then looked at the mover, his eyes narrowing into malcontented slits. "You can go and stand by the confidential files that you moronically left outside in the hall, thereby putting those investigations at risk. I will let you know when it's acceptable to move them into this office, do I make myself clear?"

"But your belongings…."

"Are mine, and are therefore are my responsibility to move." Saitoh snapped, "Now, get the hell out of my office before I throw you out." He waited until both men started scrambling in an acceptable fashion, then entered his office and shut the door behind him.

**ONE HOUR LATER**

Saitoh bent down and unlocked the last drawer of his filing cabinet. This drawer held the rare cold cases that he'd been unable to solve, files on his direct reports and his own HR paperwork, along with the stupid medals, pins and chevrons that he'd been given and steadfastly refused to put on his uniform as he was not inclined to dress like a fucking professional peacock.

Silently, he sorted through the slightly dusty documents. All of the cases and most of the remaining documentation were boxed up and set on a cart that he'd take up to his new office. Saitoh took the envelope of citations and tossed them into the trashcan, then reached into the back of the filing cabinet, checking to make sure that he hadn't missed….

"Shit," he swore, jerking his hand back quickly. His finger was cut and bleeding. Saitoh peered inside the filing cabinet, and carefully reached inside again, and pulled out the offending object.

It was a family picture, one that had not seen the light of day for over three years. The frame was bent and the glass that covered the photograph was cracked and fragmented. Saitoh looked at the damaged picture for several seconds, his angry countenance becoming unreadable before he stood and walked over to the trashcan.

When Yaso had been murdered, he'd taken three days off.

It had taken three days to wash, sand and re-finish the bloodstained floors in the kitchen, three days to pack up every scrap of clothing, every book she'd loved to read, every canvas she'd painted on. Fueled by dangerously potent amounts of alcohol and the bitterest self-recrimination, he'd worked like a man possessed. For three days and three nights, his entire mission had been to eradicate the presence of the wife he'd dearly loved, the woman he'd failed to protect.

Saitoh carefully picked away the broken glass fragments and pried out the rumpled photo paper from the warped frame that had been damaged when he'd returned to the office, hung over, angry and in so much pain that the mere sight of Yaso's happy smiling face had nearly undone him. He had no memory of angrily throwing the picture in the back of a filing cabinet.

Saitoh checked again, and pulled out two faded little drawings that Tsutomu had made and that up until the day his sweetheart had died, he'd proudly displayed in his office, the childish renditions of their now defunct family bent and torn from lack of parental care.

He had no memory of many things in the first hellish weeks and months of being alone, no recollection of holding his grieving children close or of calling and trying to comfort Yaso's distraught mother. The shock of losing her only child had been too much for the elderly woman, and before the year was out, she'd joined her daughter in death. Saitoh had been so intoxicated on the day of the poor woman's funeral, that he'd kept the children home, rather than asking a member of his family to drive them to the temple to pay their respects.

Gently, he ran a finger across the smiling faces on the photograph, his somber gaze lingering on the happy smiles of his children. Such expressions of joy, once commonplace, were now rare, especially with his oldest.

If Saitoh had suffered in the aftermath of his wife's murder, his boys had experienced nothing short of a double loss as both parents vanished, one by death the other by alcohol fueled despair.

Saitoh disposed of the frame, but retained the picture and the drawings, placing them carefully in a manila file folder, which he respectfully placed in a box on the moving cart that the facilities employees had left behind.

**OFFICE 25-A  
SUPERINDENTENT OF CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIONS  
MAJOR H. SAITOH  
**  
Saitoh stared sourly at his name, freshly painted, on the door. He hated the utter lack of anonymity that the centrally located office offered and already despised his new decor, resplendent with carved wood paneling, overly padded upholstered chairs and obnoxiously sincere motivational framed pictures on the wall.

"IF YOU CAN DREAM IT, YOU CAN ACHIEVE IT! " One picture proudly proclaimed while another trumpeted, "THERE IS NO "I" IN TEAMWORK." Saitoh rolled his eyes and commenced with taking down HR's idiotic, feel-good propaganda. He'd not received an unwanted promotion to engage in team building activities and tenderly bond with his subordinates. He'd been assigned with a very particular task, namely to eradicate and neutralize any unfavorable elements within the Criminal Investigations Department. Considering the degree of corruption in the Second Squadron alone, Saitoh wondered if he'd be better suited putting up posters that ran along the line of "THIS IS YOUR SORRY ASS. KISS IT GOOD-BYE."

Once the festive picture posters were residing where they belonged, in the trash, next to the bowl of stale candy and a "please provide me with your valued feedback" box that the former superintendent had used to no effect whatsoever before retiring, Saitoh quickly put his files away and set up his computer system. The slightly bedraggled Ironic Peace Lilly found a place next to a window sill. Tsutomu's faded pictures were restored to their proper place on the magnetic white board. Saitoh made a mental note to bring Tsuyoshi's insanely purple, face flattened cat picture to the office as well. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

The family picture was another matter. Saitoh stared down at it, at the image of his dead wife, the first photo (other than autopsy results and trail documentation) of Yaso that he'd laid eyes on in over three years. She was shorter than he remembered, and her hair was longer, nearly to her softly rounded shoulders. Her pretty face was set in a warm, open smile and her black eyes were twinkling with contentment as she held up her youngest son and waved happily at the camera. Saitoh looked at her image, remembering how they'd grown up together in the same neighborhood, of their long courtship while he'd been serving in the military, the stupid way he'd proposed (he called her and bluntly asked for her ring size) and the look of shock and awe and then transcendent joy on her face as she looked down at the (+) sign on the pregnancy test.

Regret bit at him. If her physical characteristics were already fading in his mind, what was it like for their children? It was a given that Tsuyoshi would have no memory of his mother, but what of their eldest son? Saitoh frowned and set the picture carefully in the top of his desk drawer. A wound once raw and gaping, Yaso's murder was now a terrible scar, one that he still struggled to conceal from others.

His thoughts took him back a day, when he'd been at the gun range with Tokio. His admission of weakness, his acknowledgment of the horrendous impact of his wife's loss had been unbelievably difficult to divulge to the armor clad attorney.

(The ironic thing is that Tokio already knew of my failings….)

Her loose lipped secretary had seen to that. The scowl that was forming faded as Saitoh recalled Tokio's unexpected response. Where he'd been sure that he'd find disgust and at best some sort of strangled, condescending pity from the accomplished prosecutor, he found genuine compassion, kindness and sincere grief over the terrible loss that he and his children had experienced.

(Even knowing what she did….she was….and is still willing to walk beside me)

For a man to whom mercy was nearly a foreign concept, Tokio's response was nothing short of baffling.

Respectfully, Saitoh slid the drawer of his desk shut. His instincts whispered that even this topic would not be taboo with the grey eyed woman - that Tokio would understand and even help him if he asked, so that his children could carry some memory of their dead mother with them.

Memories of carrying a thin, grief stricken orphan, the younger brother of a murdered police officer, back to their home came to mind. Saitoh had never assumed that the placement of the traumatized, angry farmer's son in their home would be permanent, but Tokio had taken the boy in her arms and loved him as if he were her own child and in time, the boy had become a permanent part of their family, a beloved brother and treasured son who proved his worth time and time again as they grew older.

(Will history repeat itself? Do I have the right to make such a request of this woman?)

Saitoh frowned and turned on his computer and logged into the NMDOJ secure portal, re-establishing his secure, encrypted connections with the network. His course was already set, and had been from the moment he realized who Tokio had the potential of being. He wanted her in his life and was determined to see her become a central figure in the lives of his children and would pursue her with same single minded intensity that he employed while hunting down the most dangerous elements of New Meiji Society.

(Moron…she's hardly a miscreant with a rap sheet)

While some of the procedures for apprehending a felon and earning the affection of an attractive woman were really quite similar (set a trap, lie in wait, spring the trap and catch the target) he strongly suspected that Tokio would not be amused at being electro-stunned and hog tied after said trap was sprung and that other, more benevolent forms of capture would need to be optimally employed.

With that thought in mind, and a few free minutes at his disposal, Saitoh went to work.

WebMail from Saitoh to Tokio

**17.25 MINUTES LATER  
**  
**SECURE AND ENCRYPTED**

**To: ttakagi .jp**  
**From: hsaitoh .jp**  
**Subject: Update**

START  
Tokio,

I reviewed the remnants of your car. It goes without saying that it's a total loss along with all personal belongings within. Please see attached documentation (FORM 87-TVL Total Loss of Vehicle) that you can forward to your insurance company to initiate a claim. I have also attached the names and contact information of all the investigators assigned to the case for you to contact if you have any questions, or need additional information. If the insurance company gives you any shit, please notify me immediately and I will see that the situation is rectified.

Your purse melted into the gear box; however remnants of your mobile phone were available for analysis. A replacement model, based on the SKU# remnant (please see attached photo) that I was able decipher has been ordered (your brother will be receiving the bill) and will be forwarded to your office by tomorrow morning along with appropriate accessories. The phone color choices were neon green, pink, orange or grey. I went with grey. Hope you don't mind.

HR has re-issued your Employee ID, computer and tablet. I will deliver these items to you this evening along with a suspiciously pink "care package" that your secretary brought to work this morning. Based on the smell emanating from it, I suspect baked goods are involved or your secretary is a murderer with a penchant for killing pastry cooks.

I am also bringing you some time-sensitive case work that your secretary indicated you were waiting for. The chief prosecuting attorney sends his warmest regards, as do your colleagues. I did not, however, provide them with your actual whereabouts, nor will I until I have made further progress on the investigation into the attempt on your life.

While it is against regulations for me to obtain a replacement Government ID on your behalf, the request has been made and a new ID is waiting for you upon your return to the office.

It is my hope that you are properly resting today and that your injuries are not causing you any undo discomfort. I left some extra cold dermal bands in the fridge for your shoulder and knee. Pain medication is on the counter, next to the sink.

Finally, I wanted to provide you an update on your apartment. Officer Watanabe and some officers specializing in explosives examined your residence and found that a pressure plate IED had been installed at the front entrance. The explosive components appear to be of the same design and contain the same components as the car bomb. Officer Watanabe has removed the explosives and is going to install a security system that is similar to the set up in my home. (Your brother will be receiving the bill) She estimates that it will take approximately three business days to complete and test the installation.

Officer Watanabe has prepared a suitcase for you with clothing and whatever it is that women keep in their overlarge suitcases until your home is secure. I will bring this to you this evening. She also asked me to extend to you an offer of hospitality.

Please know that you are also more than welcome to remain where you are for as long as you need and that I meant it when I told you to make yourself at home. Your safety and comfort is of great importance to me.

I'll see you this evening. In the meantime, REST. This is not a suggestion. You had a hell of an evening and need to recover. If you need anything, call my direct line and I will pick up if available.

In a pinch, you can also call my secretary K. Yorimoto. He's a twit, but one that has the intelligence to follow instructions to the letter and keep his mouth shut. His number is listed in the directory by my desk.

Hajime.

p.s.  
Thanks for the coffee. It was excellent.

p.p.s.  
Thanks for the send-off. It was equally excellent.

END

**Tokio**

Tokio really wanted to call her former husband, but she knew that unless it was work related, or a family or personal emergency, it wasn't something she could or would do, even if she was still married to him. She remembered that in the past she had never interfered with his work, and there was no way she was going to do that in this century, either, no matter how much she needed to hear the calming sound of his voice.

At least she had the presence of mind to know that her need to talk to him was due to the fact that her nerves were still on edge, and he was the only one who could settle her. She wondered how many days it would take for her to completely calm down after the attempt on her life. Her emotions seemed to be on an unpredictable roller coaster-like schedule. Part of the time she was completely calm and accepting; part of the time she was in utter heart-gripping turmoil.

Back in Meiji 1 there were only a few ways to get in touch with Hajime, either send him a written message via messenger, or go to the precinct station herself, or send one of the children when they'd grown older. There were other ways to contact him in this day and age. She contemplated sending him a brief text or email. Those types of messages wouldn't interrupt him, at least not much, not like a phone call.

She wished she didn't feel so needy today. When she woke this morning she did feel a lot better. So what happened? She finally realized that her emotions were triggered when she opened that box in the basement closet, and saw Yaso-san's picture. In that moment the fragile nature of life was brought right back to the surface, along with the memory of the tragedy that befell the Saitoh family.

Before Tokio could make up her mind about whether to text the Major, the phone he loaned her beeped, letting her know that she had an incoming encrypted email. It didn't take her long to open it and identify the sender. The man was always a mind reader. This wasn't quite the same as a phone call, but it would do just as well. Plus, he had given her an invitation to call him, if she wanted. She was truly thankful for that gesture, but she knew he still must be very busy dealing with things at the office, not to mention the time he had already spent on her personal issues. The man was a saint in her eyes.

She paled when she read the part about her place being rigged with explosives. It really shouldn't have surprised her. Whoever was after her was thorough, and had a back-up plan to make sure they accomplished their goal. Fortunately for her, they hadn't succeeded.

Her former husband's actions always did speak louder than anything he might say, at least most of the time. He did make an admission in the parking garage, if she remembered correctly, and he said in his email that he was concerned about her comfort and safety. The fact that he'd put extra cold packs in the fridge, put the pain meds on the counter, and ordered her to rest, spoke volumes in her book. He also arranged for a new phone, laptop, tablet, office ID, and sent her an insurance claim form. He told her she could stay as long as she wanted, and that he was serious about her making herself at home.

She could tell by what he did for her that he truly did care about her. However, she realized that it was much too soon to know whether his care would develop into something stronger and more permanent. She also knew that she couldn't stay with him any longer than it took to secure her home, not unless she was married to him. Even if she wanted to stay with him, which she did, she needed a life-time commitment from him, or she would be devastated if they parted ways.

**SECURE AND ENCRYPTED**

**To: hsaitoh .jp**  
**From: ttakagi .jp**  
**Subject: Update**

START

Hajime,

I can't thank you enough for all that you have done for me, both today and over the last two days. I literally owe you my life. It is so nice to have someone to help me with those snarky insurance agents, if need be. They usually try to take financial advantage of an unmarried woman (getting the true value of a totaled vehicle is often a challenge), not that I would ever let them get away with anything, but it is a comfort to know that I have some 'back-up' in this matter. Grey is fine for the phone. (Can you see either of us with neon green, orange or pink?)

I appreciate the update on my apartment, and your plans to make it secure. I agree, send Mori the bill, since I am here doing this job for him (even though I insisted on it). Please thank Captain Watanabe for me, if you see her today. I appreciate all of her thoughtful gestures: installing a security system in my place, sending me some of my clothes, and offering to put me up for a few days. (Although I enjoy wearing your clothing, especially the socks, I do need something else to wear when your stuff is in the laundry, lol.) As far as accommodations, I am more than happy to stay where I am, and I have no intention of moving until I have either worn out my welcome, or my place is ready, whichever comes first.

Could you please congratulate her on her promotion for me? I would extend those sentiments to you, also, if I didn't know better. I'm guessing that this is a headache that you would rather have done without. (or it would have been 200 years ago).

Thanks for bringing me the time sensitive paperwork. I was thinking that I really needed to be in the office today. I have so much to do. I'm happy I'm not lead attorney here in New Meiji, as I was in Yokohama. The legal fallout from the Umagoe affair is going to be a nightmare. (I'm so glad you insisted that the family with children leave before the video rolled today. You always did take the most sensible course of action.)

I had to laugh about Oharu. She means well. (I know that you don't like sweets, or at least you didn't in the past.) She is probably sending some of her homemade brownies with walnuts. When she brought some into work last week, I gushed over them. Remember how I used to like chocolate? Still do.

I found the cold packs (thanks), and I did make myself at home. Hope you really don't mind. However, I did not venture into your room, too personal a space for me to trespass. You have a lovely home, and a very impressive dojo, by the way. If I stay at my present location for several more days, someone will need to do some grocery shopping. (It doesn't have to be today.) I don't want it to be you; you have too much to do already. I made a list.

I am deeply moved, thankful and appreciative of your concern for my safety and comfort. I did manage a couple of short naps today. But I wasn't the only one who suffered injuries over the last two days. I believe that you had less sleep than I had. Forgive me, if I sound like an overly concerned mother hen, or a nagging wife, but *you* do need to *rest*, too. (I promise to try to take another nap after I send this.)

I saw the entire press conference this morning (up until you left, then turned it off, since I couldn't stomach listening to Uramura yammer). You handled all of it *very* well. Hope to see you soon.

Tokio

P.S. Glad you liked the coffee, and as far as the send-off, the pleasure was all *mine*.

END

Tokio clicked the send icon; then laughed lightly. He was the one who set up the coffee maker, she only turned it on, no wonder he liked the coffee. At least she could take full credit for the send-off.


End file.
